Addiction
by Myst2
Summary: Truly, madly, deeply in love can be more mad than anything else. But what happens after the madness turns to dependence, and the dependence to addiction? H/D slash.


Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I reserve the right to torture the characters in whatever way is necessary for the fic. I will, however, put them back together again when it is over.  
  
Author's Note: Well, this isn't A Type of Revenge… this isn't even related to that in any way. Please have that clear in your mind before you start reading. Maudlinrose and I came up with this plot bunny a couple of months ago, when we were coming up with a number of them. Short ones, mainly. There's one more to write, and then the long ones. Anyway, since my main priority is ATOR, I've been ignoring all the notes. Then about a month after we came up with the bunny, it jumped in my head, and I wrote a couple of pages of it, and promptly went back to ATOR.  
  
However, if you follow anything that I write, you'll know that I've recently moved universities and consequently had to shift cities at the same time. This, coupled with the breakdown of my computer, meant that my master copy of ATOR was inaccessible, and I couldn't write anything. Fortunately, my flatmates have laptops, so I wrote this one Friday night from about 10pm to 1am.  
  
Maudlinrose… as always, my deepest thanks. I might write this sort of stuff, but I wouldn't do nearly as good a job without you to talk it over with. This is for you.  
  
Rhionae, thank you for the beta… you've got a bit to do now, yes? Looking at Lucius and the next chapter of ATOR as well as this.  
  
Everyone else… reviews much appreciated, and if you leave a reply, I'll get back to you.  
  
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst. Oh, yes. Slash. Lots of it.  
  
Addiction  
  
Myst  
  
He knew muggle society - or at least could understand them relatively well - and Draco knew wizarding society. That was why he liked working with Draco so much as well as being his lover. They meshed perfectly, Draco with his cool blond looks and cruel sarcasm complementing his own darker, more casual style. But Draco didn't seem to care about his work any more. Harry knew he was the one who was more passionate about wizard/muggle relationships, and that Draco had no real reason to care about such things, but he had been interested in it to start off with, if only for his own sake.  
  
Harry sighed and abandoned his desk for the warmer comfort of his own home and Draco. He was late again. Draco would sulk. He loved the other man dearly, but he also wanted Draco to have something of his own. Harry had his work, and they shared Quidditch, their home and nearly everything else of remote importance.  
  
No, he realised suddenly, that wasn't entirely true. As he'd moved further and further into the circuit of social intrigue that came with being a junior attaché to the Ambassador to the Muggles from the wizarding world, Draco had withdrawn more and more. There were logical reasons for this of course. Harry was the Boy Who Lived and Draco the son of a Death Eater. Harry liked people. Draco didn't.  
  
So what was there between them save love and sex? Well, Harry mused as he stepped through the doorway and caught Draco, who was extremely enthusiastic about his return; there were currently far too many layers of clothing.  
  
Later, they curled up together in front of the fireplace. Harry didn't want to move, but he knew if he didn't have something to eat now, he'd be utterly starving by morning, what with his and Draco's seemingly insatiable appetites for each other. He stretched and made as though to move.  
  
"Harry?" said Draco, instantly waking. "Is something wrong? Can I get you anything? Do you want a drink? Dinner?"  
  
"I was going to get cleaned up and something to eat…" said Harry uncomfortably. He was never quite sure why Draco felt this utter need to take care of him all the time. It was getting so that he couldn't make a move without Draco hovering over him as though he was a helpless baby.  
  
"I had dinner ready for six," Draco said reprovingly. "Chicken. But you worked late again."  
  
"Sorry," Harry muttered.  
  
Draco kissed him lightly. "You go and have a shower, and I'll clean up here and see if I can salvage dinner."  
  
"Did you cook it?"  
  
"Of course I did," Draco said too brightly.  
  
Harry snorted and went to have a shower. He loved Draco. Truly, he did. They had been through so much together these past years, and they were still together. Their friends were always surprised they had lasted this long... their friends?  
  
No.  
  
Harry froze in the midst of washing himself. His friends. When had that happened?  
  
"Not done yet?" a silky voice purred behind him. "Let me help you with that."  
  
Harry turned in the confines of the shower and gave himself up to Draco's care  
  
At times like this, he could forget the fact that he was having doubts about their relationship. He could forget all the problems that had been dumped in his lap that day, which needed to be solved now, meaning that he had to work late, and deal with an upset Draco when he got home. He could even forget that he had yet to tell Draco that he had to go away again to another political gathering for a few days.  
  
They made love in the shower, slow and languorous, soaping each other down, and bringing themselves to completion. Harry thought of these times as a respite, a sacred time away from the world and its cares. They were both limp with exhaustion by the time they were done, separate until the next time the overwhelming desire swept through them.  
  
He ate at the kitchen table in trousers and nothing else, with Draco hovering solicitously over him, wanting to know if everything was okay, if the food had suffered much from being kept so long, waiting to be eaten. Harry suppressed a surge of irritation. Draco did so much for him, made his life so much easier, and this was how he repaid him, by getting angry.  
  
"Draco, sit down, you're making me dizzy hovering like that."  
  
Draco laughed, but sat obediently. "What, Harry, can't keep your eyes off me?"  
  
"Of course not." Harry felt himself flush. Even now, years after they first came together, Draco still had the power to draw his eyes like no other man did. "You know you're gorgeous."  
  
The blond smiled, pleased. "I'm not the only one."  
  
Harry pretended to look affronted, but made sure that Draco knew he was pretending. Too many times in the past year he had had to explain to Draco that he was just teasing. He supposed that his lover wouldn't have had much opportunities for teasing, growing up with some of the strictest people on the planet. "You think the cat is prettier than me?" He gestured at the cat snoozing in front of the stove where it was going to be stepped on as they were cooking or something.  
  
"Why, of course, lover," Draco teased back. "He has a lovely coat of smooth fur and is warm and snuggly and here all day, whereas you only have fur on top of your head, and while you're snuggly, you're not home often enough to be useful that way."  
  
Harry reached out, and lightly rested his hand on top of Draco's. "I'm sorry about tonight," he said simply. "There were suddenly half a dozen projects which I had to do, and they all needed finishing now, and then I had to do all my own work too."  
  
"They work you too hard, love."  
  
"Not really," Harry objected. "At least, it doesn't really feel like work, and it's less stressing than doing NEWTs. It's just the hours are different."  
  
"Yes, well," Draco looked down at his hands, studying the way his nails met skin. "I miss you when you're not here."  
  
"You could go out and do something," Harry said gently, hoping that they weren't going to get into this argument again. It had been going on and off again for years, until they both felt they could recite the discussion from memory.  
  
"And do what?" His mate asked bitterly. "Who would employ me? The son of a Death Eater."  
  
"People don't hold that against you any more," Harry protested. "They know you were instrumental…" he broke off as Draco shook his head.  
  
"Nothing doing, Harry. Besides, I like being here for you."  
  
Harry nodded, dropping the subject for now. "Have you eaten?"  
  
"Yes, I hope you don't mind. It's just you were late and I was hungry so…"  
  
Harry cut him off with a kiss. "I love you," he said calmly. "I'll clear up. Stay there, Draco. You've waited on me all evening. Let me do something for you for a change, okay?" When Draco looked like he would protest, Harry kissed him again, and started to clear up.  
  
"I don't mind doing things for you, Harry."  
  
"I know," said Harry. "But you make me feel useless by always doing things for me, and I want to look after you for a change."  
  
"You're all I need, Harry."  
  
He shifted uncomfortably, aware that the reverse was no longer the truth. "I think we're done in here, love."  
  
Draco nodded. "Does this mean I get to screw your brains out again?"  
  
Harry walked out of the kitchen, putting an extra and unusual sway in his hips. "What makes you think you'll be the one screwing?" he called back after him. The next thing he knew, he was pushed up again the nearest wall, with Draco pressed tightly to him. "Oh, I don't know," the blond said, rubbing suggestively against him. "Perhaps it's because I'm irresistible?"  
  
"Mmm," Harry agreed, leaning into the kiss.  
  
"Come on then," said Draco, taking him by the hand, and leading him to their bedroom. Harry followed obediently. At times like this, he was convinced that he was imagining Draco's increasing dependence on him. They were good together in bed, like two halves of a matched set. It was only out of bed that he was starting to find problems. Their lovemaking was as wonderful as ever, and it was only later, when they were curled up together in a hot and sweaty mess that he remembered that he hadn't told Draco he was going away again.  
  
Draco made as if to get up when Harry got up to go to work at the positively unholy hour of 6am, but as always, Harry pushed him back into bed and farewelled him later with a kiss - a totally indecent kiss, guaranteed to give pleasant dreams to anyone - before going to work. He was starting early today, in order to make up the work he hadn't finished the day before.  
  
The day passed in much the same manner as the previous for Harry. He did his work, interacted with his colleagues and wondered what Draco was doing right now. And he started organising things for his next trip. Which, he reminded himself grimly, he still had to tell Draco about. He left early, which meant on time for him, having declined, as usual, an offer of drinks from his coworkers. He'd gone a few times, and had invited Draco along on those occasions, but it hadn't gone well. Draco had been clingy and possessive, and Harry hadn't known how to handle it.  
  
He snuck into their apartment. Draco was out for a change. Probably buying something nice for dinner. Harry sighed. He didn't know how to make Draco understand that all he wanted was the man, not anything he could be given. He changed out of his work clothes, revelling in the rare opportunity to do so unhindered. Since Draco wasn't here, Harry thought, maybe he could organise something for the other man. He wandered around the flat, feeling a stranger there, despite having lived there for years. It was lacking something, he mused, and then he understood. Draco. The place was missing Draco. It was so rare that he was alone here, or Draco wasn't here, which generally amounted to the same thing. He didn't really know what to do with himself. The place was almost frighteningly tidy, and Harry found himself wondering what precisely Draco did with all his time here.  
  
He was in the lounge, looking at the darkening city, with its lights strung across the landscape when the door opened and a wonderful smell wafted in.  
  
"Harry! You're home early!" He found that he was clutching an armful of blond, and a very hot box.  
  
"Yeah. I got everything done on time." He gently disengaged himself.  
  
"You're going away again," Draco stated flatly, going past him, and into the kitchen.  
  
"You can come with me, you know that," Harry began.  
  
"No, I can't. You know that, Harry. I don't fit in with your circle."  
  
"You could come anyway…"  
  
"What, and do nothing all day? That's not my style, Harry, and you know it. And the last time I went with you, I managed to offend half the guests and scare the other half."  
  
"Do you care?"  
  
"No, but you do."  
  
Harry nodded. It was all too true. And he wanted to make a difference, to help the wizarding world understand and accept the muggle world, and vice versa. "I'm sorry," he said weakly.  
  
Draco sniffed. "And what am I supposed to do all day while you're gone, hmmm?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said uncomfortably. "Do whatever you normally do, I suppose."  
  
"I can't sleep without you, Harry."  
  
"And I find that I stay up to strange hours of the morning without you, lover. But I have to go on this trip, Draco. They need me. And this is a good way for me to get noticed by the Ambassador."  
  
"They send you away too often."  
  
"They send me away about the same amount that they send all the other junior attaches away. Draco, just accept the fact that I have to go."  
  
"How long is it?"  
  
"Three days."  
  
"You'll want me to pack you a bag then, I suppose."  
  
"I think I'm capable of doing that, love. No, what I want is for you to be happy."  
  
"I'm not happy without you, Harry."  
  
"Draco," he said cautiously, "Did you ever think that you might be too dependent on me for your happiness?"  
  
"No," the other man said calmly.  
  
Harry started unpacking the food. "Well, that's something to think about while I'm gone, then." He looked at the food. "You like this stuff?"  
  
"I thought you did."  
  
Harry peered in the box again. "I don't even know what it is."  
  
"It's a meat dish. I thought you liked it."  
  
"Don't fuss over me, Draco, I don't need it. Do you want spaghetti on toast? I can make some."  
  
"I've never had it," said Draco.  
  
"Then you're missing out," Harry declared, trying to smooth over the anger evident in the air. Neither of them would say anything about this argument every again, but he hoped he'd gotten through to Draco this time. His mate made polite noises about the spaghetti on toast, but Harry could tell he didn't really like it. "Is there anything else you'd like?"  
  
"No, thank you," Draco said, both polite and snide at the same time. He did that the best of anyone Harry knew. They ended up on the couch, leaning against each other and reading quietly. It would have been an extremely pleasant and comfortable way to spend the evening if Draco hadn't been sulking, and if Harry hadn't been mad with him. They went to bed, and for the first time in a long time, they didn't make love before sleeping. They didn't even curl up together. In the morning though, they were wrapped around each other like there was no tomorrow. Harry wasn't sure whether he could extract himself without waking Draco, and half considered just staying in bed and calling in sick. But this close to a trip he couldn't possibly.  
  
Draco was right about one thing, he decided. Working as he did didn't give them enough time together. He just wished that Draco had something of his own to do. Even picking up rubbish, not that his lover would ever demean himself to do that, would be an improvement, in Harry's opinion. It would give them something more to talk about, and then perhaps they would be able to develop shared interests. Harry was aware that, although he hid it better, he needed Draco as desperately as Draco needed him.  
  
But maybe, he mused on the train two days later; they needed some time apart to develop potential, or something. Perhaps they had rushed too quickly into their relationship once school was over or something similar. Maybe they loved each other too much to ever like each other. Harry wasn't sure what it was. What he did know was that Draco was getting dangerously dependent on him, and that wasn't healthy. They would discuss it when he got home, Harry decided in a blaze of decision making. He would ask for a day off work for personal reasons, and they would talk about it. And he would make sure that Draco said what he thought, and not what Harry wanted to hear.  
  
The three days passed really slowly. Harry was distracted the entire time, and made some foolish mistakes, which didn't endear him to the muggle gentry he was working with. He was able to explain it some of the time about having some problems with his partner, but his boss wasn't very happy with him, so he only got a half day at the end instead of the full day he had asked for.  
  
They had had a wonderful reunion, as always. Draco had been incredibly enthusiastic and giving. Harry's body ached with desire just remembering it. He was able to put it all aside eventually, but he didn't get nearly enough work done. That didn't really matter now, though. Draco was the one who mattered, not his work, and it was high time that he got that priority sorted.  
  
"Harry, you're home early. Something happen at work?"  
  
"No, I've taken the rest of the day off."  
  
"Why?" Draco sounded delighted. "You normally have to work more once you come back, for a few weeks or so. Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course I am, but it is unusual, Harry."  
  
"We need to talk," Harry said heavily, and Draco went white.  
  
"Is this the prelude to your breaking up with me speech?"  
  
"Only if you want it to be," Harry said quietly.  
  
"I don't. So that's sorted then?"  
  
"No. We still need to talk."  
  
"Go on," Draco said coldly.  
  
Harry tried to explain everything he'd been thinking about over the past few weeks, how he felt that Draco was being too dependent on him, and that they should have some separate interests, so they would have things to talk about and introduce the other person to. They stood in the hallway, door still wide open and worked out their personal lives where all could hear. Harry talked mainly, and Draco listened. But he could tell that he wasn't really getting through to his lover. "Draco? Say something?"  
  
"What? That I'm incredibly happy you've thought of all this. Harry, you're all I need. You know that. Stay."  
  
"Draco, we need to… grow up, I guess. And that's not happening while we're together like this."  
  
The blond was white by now. "So what happens now?" Finally, he understood.  
  
"It's your choice," Harry said gently. "One word. Go or stay. But I won't be your addiction, Draco."  
  
There was a long moment of silence, and then Draco whispered a single word, almost inaudible.  
  
The door closed.  
  
The end. 


End file.
